Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [212]

Wanda often carried herself with an aloof demeanor, lost in her own world and seemingly indifferent to those around her.

But now, Bruce realized there might be more to it.

Can Wanda see the spirits of her parents? Bruce wondered. Or is she just more sensitive than most, vaguely aware of their presence?

When Bruce first encountered magic, his own intuition had sharpened significantly, granting him fleeting glimpses of danger. If Wanda had a natural affinity for witchcraft, it wouldn’t be far-fetched for her to sense spirits.

Pietro, on the other hand, seemed completely normal, and Wanda had likely never shared her experiences with him. Bruce concluded that Wanda probably couldn’t see her parents’ spirits but could faintly feel them nearby.

If that’s the case, it’s not my place to say anything, Bruce thought.

After all, they were merely housemates under the same roof. Bringing up her parents out of the blue might only provoke Wanda’s ire—and talking about spirits could make Bruce sound like a delusional mystic.

When Wanda truly needs help, I’ll step in, Bruce resolved.

Living in America meant navigating social nuances carefully—one wrong word could be taken as offensive.

Acting as if nothing was amiss, Bruce finished his morning routine and joined everyone for breakfast before heading to school.

Life at Midtown School was a rare reprieve for Bruce, offering a sense of normalcy.

No major incidents. Just the mundane worries of kids his age.

Most students already knew each other, having grown up in the same neighborhood and attended the same schools. It was clear they’d continue to be classmates through high school.

Peter Parker, ever enthusiastic, had quickly become close to Bruce—or at least, he thought so.

Peter shared much about his life, like how he was an orphan too. His parents had died in an accident, and his aunt and uncle had taken him in.

Peter also admitted he had a mild disposition, which often made him a target for bullies.

Out of curiosity, Bruce discreetly glanced at Peter’s back one morning, finding no spirits lingering there.

So not every orphan has their parents’ spirits following them, Bruce concluded. He didn’t doubt Peter’s parents’ love for him; it simply seemed the formation of spirits wasn’t so straightforward.

“Bruce! Over here!”

Peter waved at him from his seat, looking unusually cheerful.

“Uncle Ben landed a big job recently and bought me a present!” Peter whispered excitedly as Bruce approached. “It’s the LEGO Star Wars Death Star set! Want to come over and help me build it?”

“How many pieces?” Bruce asked, raising an eyebrow.

“3,803!” Peter beamed. “We can spend ages putting it together!”

“Sure,” Bruce replied, planning to spend one day on it before coming up with an excuse to stop.

Just as they were talking, the bell rang, and the class fell quiet.

A teacher entered—a stunning red-haired woman with a curvaceous figure, holding a stack of textbooks.

Her entrance caused the boys in the class to shift awkwardly in their seats, as if the very sight of her parched their throats.

Her sophisticated charm was irresistible to the teenage boys, but Bruce’s reaction was far from admiration.

The moment he laid eyes on her, a chill ran down his spine.

Behind her floated a throng of spirits.

They screamed, wailed, and reached out as if trying to drag her into a bottomless abyss.

The scene was harrowing, straight out of a nightmare. This woman wasn’t just a teacher—she was something far more dangerous.

“Ms. Warren is unwell,” the redhead said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll be substituting for your math class for a while. My name is Natalie Rushman, but you can call me Natalie.”

Natasha Romanoff, Bruce heard Kathoom’s voice in his mind. A.K.A. Black Widow. S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Looks like HYDRA’s plan is already in motion.

That explains the spirits, Bruce thought. A simple teacher wouldn’t carry such a burden.

But even for a trained agent, how many people would one need to kill to accumulate such a karmic weight?

“Is she with HYDRA?” Bruce whispered internally.

“Not quite,” Kathoom replied. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s just a pawn.”

With HYDRA entrenched in S.H.I.E.L.D., even loyal agents like Natasha couldn’t avoid being used as tools.

Throughout class, Bruce couldn’t shake the feeling that Natasha was watching him.

Her gaze was subtle, almost imperceptible—no ordinary student would have noticed.

She’s assessing me, Bruce deduced. This must be part of the evaluation Baron mentioned. As long as we don’t mess up, we’ll be recruited into S.H.I.E.L.D.

He suspected Pietro and Wanda were undergoing similar evaluations.

The assessment didn’t conclude in a single day.

Bruce maintained his usual demeanor—attending school, occasionally helping Peter with LEGO projects, and spending evenings immersed in magical studies.

One evening, while reviewing a tome, Bruce asked Kathoom, “Do you think Natasha is more complicated than she seems?”

He still couldn’t reconcile her overwhelming spiritual burden with what he knew of her as an agent.

“The spirits aren’t people she killed,” Kathoom explained. “They’re the weight of her past.”

The owl elaborated on the Red Room, a brutal training facility where Natasha spent her childhood, witnessing the suffering and deaths of countless peers.

“You’ll meet many people like her,” Kathoom said. “Each with their own history, carrying legacies of countless souls. But their burdens aren’t your concern.”

Heroes and villains alike had their share of past sins.

You’re not going to absolve them all, are you, Bruce Wayne?

Bruce didn’t respond, refocusing on his studies. His thoughts, however, remained a mystery.

—

Finally, one afternoon after school, Natasha called Bruce aside.

“Mr. Wayne.”

She held a test paper in one hand. “Your math scores seem a bit… unusual. Come to my office after class.”

“Yes, Ms. Rushman,” Bruce replied calmly.

Peter, packing his bag, looked disappointed.

“Want me to wait for you?” he asked.

“No need,” Bruce said. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be.”

Who knew? Natasha might make him build LEGO too, which would take all night.

Bruce headed to her office, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” Natasha’s voice called from inside.

Entering, Bruce found Natasha seated at her desk, twirling a pen idly. His test paper lay open before her.

“Ms. Rushman,” Bruce greeted, sitting in the chair she gestured to.

“Bruce,” she began, her tone curious. “Forgive my curiosity, but have you received advanced training in mathematics?”

“No,” Bruce answered truthfully.

Everything he knew, he’d taught himself through independent study.

“That’s odd.”

Natasha handed him the test paper, where every question was marked correct. However, several steps were circled in red.

“These methods aren’t typical for someone your age,” she noted. “They’re high school—sometimes even college-level techniques.”

Some geometry problems that should have required lengthy proofs had been solved by Bruce with a single coordinate-based equation.

Bruce’s test was full of similar puzzles, each solved in just three steps.

“You’re sure you haven’t had formal training?” Natasha asked, her tone scrutinizing. “Or perhaps someone in your family with exceptional math skills has been tutoring you?”

“Well, Ms. Rushman, I’ll admit something.”

Bruce sighed, feigning guilt. “I’ve read some advanced textbooks on my own.”

“I knew it,” Natasha said with a knowing smile, her elegant fingers twirling the pen in her hand.

“You have a natural talent for math, Bruce. I noticed it right away.”

Not much of an observation, Bruce thought dryly. I’m talented in everything.

“And it’s not just math,” Natasha continued. “I’ve spoken to your other teachers. You’re talented across the board—your logic is impeccable, and your reactions are sharp.”

With that, she slid a sheet of paper across the desk. On it were an array of dots connected by lines.

“Try solving this,” she said. “It’s challenging. Don’t worry if you can’t; you can take it home and I’ll give you three days…”

“Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.,” Bruce interrupted.

“…What?”

Natasha froze, caught completely off guard by Bruce’s unexpected words.

“That’s the answer,” Bruce said, studying her expression as though seeking confirmation. “Did I get it wrong, Ms. Rushman?”

“Wrong? No… not at all…”

Natasha’s composure faltered as she stared at Bruce in disbelief. The speed at which he solved the puzzle was beyond anything she’d anticipated.

How much time had passed? Ten seconds? Not even?

Meanwhile, Bruce rubbed his chin, glancing back at the paper with a faint trace of doubt.

“I might not have fully solved it,” he admitted. “What does ‘S.H.I.E.L.D.’ even mean?”

“Bruce,” Natasha said, forcing a polite smile, “could you explain how you solved it so quickly?”

“It’s simple,” Bruce began.

“These dots and lines represent Morse code. By converting the patterns, I deciphered a series of letters.

“But the letters didn’t form coherent words. No combination made sense, which meant there was another layer of encryption.

“After some trial and error, I discovered that the letters corresponded to keyboard positions. For example, A becomes Q, B becomes W, and so on.

“Once I had the new sequence, I grouped the letters in sets of four, shifting the fourth letter to the front of each group. That produced the final phrase: ‘Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.’”

Bruce explained the solution in half a minute, though he had completed the puzzle in mere seconds.

“The logic holds, doesn’t it?” he asked. “It’s a simple cipher using basic encryption methods. But I still don’t understand what S.H.I.E.L.D. is.”

Bruce’s calculated expression and feigned disappointment made it seem as though he was questioning his own intellect.

Natasha was stunned.

She admitted that the puzzle wasn’t particularly complex—it couldn’t be, given Bruce’s age. More advanced encryptions requiring computational decryption would defeat the purpose of the test.

Yet Bruce’s performance shattered her expectations, forcing her to confront an unsettling possibility.

Is this even humanly possible?

“How long did it take you?” Natasha asked finally.

“Hmm…” Bruce pretended to think. “About five seconds. A bit long, really—I wasted time trying incorrect methods.”

Genius… no, Natasha corrected herself internally. Monster.

“Mr. Wayne…”

Natasha carefully considered her next words, trying to regain control of the situation.

She had anticipated Bruce might solve the puzzle faster than average, but she expected it to take at least a night—perhaps the full three days she’d allotted.

She’d planned to use his return with the correct answer as an opportunity to introduce him to S.H.I.E.L.D.

Instead, Bruce had cracked it in seconds, turning what should have been a meticulous evaluation into an effortless display.

If Natasha revealed S.H.I.E.L.D. now, would it diminish the organization’s mystique?

Yet Bruce wasn’t letting up.

“What does S.H.I.E.L.D. mean, Ms. Rushman?” he pressed, his tone persistent but polite.

Natasha sighed internally. If she didn’t explain, Bruce might investigate on his own—an outcome far more damaging to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secrecy.

“It’s nothing,” Natasha said, her expression softening into a dazzling smile. “It’s exactly what it says, Mr. Wayne.

“Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

—

T/N: ayanokouji step aside

This is a fan translation of 蝙蝠侠的猫头鹰教父 by 巴巴罗萨光年. All rights to the original work belong to the creator. Please support them by exploring their original work or sharing it with others if you can. Thank you for reading and supporting my efforts to bring this story to a wider audience!